


The Forty-First Sentinel Tidbits File by Many and Varied

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Series: The Senad Sentinel Tidbits Files by Many and Varied [41]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Senslash Fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist





	The Forty-First Sentinel Tidbits File by Many and Varied

## The Forty-First Sentinel Tidbits File

by Many and Varied

Author's disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, these tidbits aren't mine. Honestly, I'm not responsible for any of it!  


Rating: the whole range  
Pairings: J/B (mostly!) 

* * *

Tidbit #1 

ObSenad 

Simon held the door open as Jim eased through, carrying his sleeping Guide. Silently, he followed Jim into the small downstairs bedroom and pulled the blankets back on the bed. Jim settled the younger man on the bed, then began to undress him. 

Only Sandburg could get in trouble at an anthropology meeting. Food poisoning from bad fish was the diagnosis. 

Stripped to his boxers and shivering, Blair began to moan as another wave of cramps hit him. Too drugged to fully wake up, he clutched at the sheet and began to pull his knees up. 

The Blessed Protector came out in Jim. Without thinking, he began to massage the tight, cramping stomach muscles. His other hand automatically went to the sweaty forehead and stroked the hair back. 

Again and again he rubbed the painfully tight muscles, losing himself in the warmth of the skin, the feel of the hair against his own skin. 

Concentrating on the feel of relaxing muscles under his hand, the Sentinel lengthened his strokes and began to focus on the small sounds of pleasure his Guide was now making. Nearly zoning on the sound, he didn't notice how the hair under his hand was thicker and more tightly curled, or how the cotton boxers were now tented up and away from his hand. 

Only when the sounds became moans, did the Sentinel's other senses come back in full. His hands stilled as scent noted the pheromones in the air and touch noted the hard shaft just a fraction of an inch from his fingertips. His eyes raised to meet the brown eyes staring at him from the other side of the bed. 

"God Jim, you're not going to leave him like that. Are you?" 

\--end-- 

Emerald  


* * *

Tidbit #2 

ObSenad: 

"Blair?" No answer from his guide, so he sneaks closer and tries to peek over the younger man's shoulder - to find him totally engrossed in a TV show. "What are you watching?" 

"Hm?" A curly mop of hair perks up to spare him a glance, then attention drifts back to the scene. "Oh, it's just this show I stumbled across..." 

"No kidding, eh?" Blue eyes meet his in irritation, and Ellison sighs. "I already guessed that, smart man. _What_ show?" 

"'Matrix'." 

"I don't think I've ever heard of that one." 

"I'd be surprised if you had. It's one of those unfortunate shows that have seen no more than 13 episodes..." 

"Okay, so tell me, what's a Matrix?" 

"Not 'what', 'who'." Blair grins. "And it's Nick Mancuso, the guy who played the Stingray character in the 80's show." 

"And since when do you start watching TV this closely?" 

"Well, it's kinda funny, y'know." Blair shrugs, gesturing to the Sentinel to sit down on the couch next to him. And Jim obeys. "It's one of those totally weird shows that show a lot of strange ideas. Matrix is, like, this ex-mafia hitman who now has to redeem himself so he doesn't go to hell. So he gets 'assignments' from this strange place - 'the city in between'. They show him people who are in trouble and who need his help." 

"'They'?" 

"Well, these strange people that keep showing up - in the weirdest of places, actually. Like, he opens his fridge door, and inside he sees Sister Rowena... a nun on a Harley..." 

"Nun... on a Harley...?" 

"Yeah." Blair gives him just a quick glance, his hands moving now as he speaks - he's excited. Jim's confused. "The thing that really cracked me up was when they established that those people who give him the 'assignments' call themselves... his 'guides'." 

Blue eyes go wide while he waits for Jim's reaction, and Ellison smiles, but then shrugs. "You watch this show 'cause there are some 'guides' in it?" 

Exasperated sigh. "Noooo. I watch it because it's good. And I watch it because Nick is one fine hunk in this show." 

Now _that_ got a reaction out of Jim - his eyes widen as his head whips around. "You...?" 

"... lust after guys? Yeah, sometimes." Blair shrugs, smiling sweetly. "But only if they're like this." 

"Like... what?" 

"Y'know - control freaks." 

"I'm not a control freak!" 

"Who said I was lusting after you?!" Blair practically smirks as Jim squirms in his seat, trying to avoid his eyes. "Besides, I've got proof." 

"You have?" 

Now Jim stares at him again, watches him crawl closer, lean into his personal space, until his lips almost brush his cheek. 

"Yeah." Blair whispers and feels a shiver run through the Sentinel's body. "Sister Rowena said so in this episode..." 

-finis- 

Sammy  


* * *

Tidbit #3 

ObSenad: 

"Poor Marmoset! She is SO embarrassed!" 

"Chief? Did you get enough sleep last night? I thought I heard you mention an embarrassed monkey." 

"Marmoset is her on-line name. She's on the list -- you know, the one about the show we used to watch on Wednesday nights, about the two guys \-- the one that's coming back in January ..." 

"So what is this on-line monkey embarrassed about, Chief?" 

"Well, she apparently got so excited about Minotaur's new web-site, she prematurely announced its URL before the site was really ready. So now she had to come back and tell _everybody_ about her mistake." 

"I thought the Minotaur was some mythological beast caught in a Labyrinth." 

"Minotaur is _his_ on-line name." 

"So, I don't see the problem." 

"Well, it's destined to be a popular site because he will be providing a much-needed service for slash writers. And it's not really ready for as many visitors as he's likely to get, now that Marmoset has opened her big mouth and announced its existence to the list." 

"Slash writers?" 

"Yeah, Jim. You remember. They write about the relationship between the 2 guys -- the subtextual one, the one where they're ... you know .. _involved_ .. romantically or sexually." 

"Aww Chief, you're talking subtext _again_?! Now I'm afraid to ask. What possible service can this guy provide for slash writers -- does he publish their stuff or something?" 

"No. He answers their questions about sex between 2 guys. 

"Here's a paper towel, Jim. You wanna another beer? 

"You see, Jim, most of the slash writers are women but they write about the guys having sex. And they want to be accurate, so some of them need some place to go for the information. And some libraries don't carry a lot of books on gay issues or some of the writers live in places where they can't find or comfortably go to the kinds of book stores where they can get this type of information, so for a while some of the writers just sort of guessed. And some of the  
guesses were not quite realistic." 

"So this guy, Minotaur?" 

"When his site is finished, he will be clearing up misconceptions and answering questions about, you know, male-male sex." 

"Like what, Chief?" 

"Oh, you know, positions, lubes ... one of the pages is called 'Can they really do that?'" 

"You've looked at this site, Chief?" 

"Yeah, I looked at a couple of the pages that are under construction before Marmoset came back to warn us off. Some useful information, there, Jim. When Minotaur announces the grand opening, you should really take a look." 

"And just why would _I_ be interested in this site, Chief? I'm not a slash writer." 

<Blink> <blink>

"Chief?" 

\--finis-- 

Marmoset  


* * *

Tidbit #4 

ObSenad: Ode to the subject of PUKE 

This list just thrills me in every way.  
I keep coming back for more each day. 

I read with joy and never rebuke.  
But the subject has suddenly turned to puke. 

Now barfing is like...so gross man...there's no doubt.  
As we pray to the porcelain God... and then shout. 

"Kill me please or end this hell.  
To stop this torture my soul I'd sell." 

When it finally stops you have this feeling of bliss.  
But hey dude...Yo Big Guy...this is no time to kiss. 

Just shlepp my ass to bed... then tuck me in.  
Let me sleep it off ... then let a new day begin. 

In the morning I'll feel better, and you can kiss my lips.  
Then you can kiss other things while I move my hips. 

But for now let's just back off and bring me the mouth wash.  
It feels like something died in my mouth and that tastes so harsh. 

But you know I love you, and soon I'll be aching...  
To smother you in kisses...I'll be yours for the taking. 

BY: gail, a list sibling who is like...so grossed out, man....and luvin' it 

* * *

Tidbit #5 

Marmoset started: 

There once was a writer of fanfic... 

(and Ann continues:) 

whose brother developed an eye tic  
when told of her hobby  
he ran to a bobby  
but lo if the charges don't stick! 

* * *

Tidbit #6 

Obsenad for demographics posting: 

"Hey, Chief, what's with the picnic basket?" 

Jim watched as his partner and roommate finished piling extremely edible, irresistible smelling brownies nearly wrapped in foil into a large wicker basket. The anthropologist frowned, rearranging other delectable goodies in order to tuck several bags of left-over Halloween candy he could have sworn was not among the bunch he had helped finish up after all the little hobgoblins had stopped ringing their doorbell. 

"It's like a care package for the Iversons, man. Hey, look what I found for the 4 year old." Sandburg held up a small, shiny Monster Truck, bristling with chrome, racing stickers and doors and tailgate that actually opened. A daintily dressed, scrunched faced doll was already nestled in a corner. 

"Joe had kids?" Ellison frowned, recalling the young uniform who had been gunned down in a drug raid a few weeks ago. He recalled someone or other collecting for flowers, and the fact that he had been in court the day of the funeral, and unable to attend. A brief image of a freckled, rawboned kid with kinky red hair and a broad, toothy smile, a southern accent thick as clover honey, and a uniform so new it creaked, and then it was gone, segued into a crumpled form with staring eyes and a neat line of bullet holes speckling the back of his crisp dark blue shirt. 

"Yeah, it's really hard on his wife, y'know? See, they were originally from South Carolina; and when Joe got out of the army, he decided to go to school, and decided to take law enforcement at Ranier. When he graduated, Cascade PD picked him up, and he moved the wife and kids here after he was accepted. They just bought a place and got the kids settled into school when Joe got killed, and Amy's got this house and car payment now, and none of her people are around, you know?" 

"How do you know all this, Chief?" 

"I asked around, Jim." The anthropologist shrugged. "I mean, you work with people, you find out about their lives, what they do, where they're from. It's important; it's what makes them people, you know, not just the guy in the filing room with the bad breath, or the lady in records that wears skirts two sizes too small, or the weird detective in vice with the bad hairpiece. I mean, there are human beings behind the labels, people that do other things, have other interests besides their jobs." Sandburg looked up at him then, the eyes behind the glasses somber and earnest. 

"What about Iverson's wife?" At his friend's questioning look, Ellison gestured at the contents of the basket. "You've got stuff in there for the kids, and enough food for a small third world country. What about their mom?" 

"You know, I didn't even think about it--I don't know what to get for her, I was so concerned about the kids--I'll have to ask--" Ellison held up a hand, and gestured Sandburg to silence. He did recall something, an offhand remark the talkative rookie had made while they were waiting for the bust to go down, something about his wife and the extra money she made on a hobby of hers...he raced up the steps to the bedroom, and opened a battered olive foot locker, removing the neat piles of winter clothing and old scrapbooks, and unearthed a small, yellowed package. 

Turning it over gently, he remembered the day he had stolen into his parents' bedroom, before his father had completely removed every trace of his mother's presence from the house, and carefully removing it from the steel embroidery hoops, had folded the half done needlepoint project into a neat rectangle, and placed it in an empty gift box. Shaking it from the yellowed tissue paper, he traced the half-finished work, sensitive fingers feeling each knot and stitch, eyes taking in the shiny colored floss, the colors still rich and vivid after nearly 25 years. Sensing his friend just behind him, he silently held out the unbleached cotton, the stencil of two little boys, arms thrown high, trying to catch a bright yellow ball plain to see. 

Sandburg's voice was hushed and a little awed. "Jim, was that your Mom's?" Long fingers reverently touched the yellowed cloth. 

Jim cleared his throat gruffly. "Yeah...she...left before she finished it, and I took it and kept it, so I had something she had made, you know? But, I think she would have liked to have seen it finished some day, and Joe said once his old lady did that kind of stuff, and made some money at the craft fairs. Said she started doing it to keep busy while he was gone on duty tours, after the kids were in bed, so she wouldn't start thinking too much about him...miss him so much." Ellison started piling the stacks of clothing neatly back in the locker, closing it with a snap. 

"Well, C'mon Chief, let's get going. Maybe we can pick up a few more things before we deliver this thing tonight." 

\--end-- 

Jackie  


* * *

Tidbit #7 

ObSenad limerick: 

In collecting the list's demographics  
We've been chided we're going off topics  
We want naked Blair  
With Jim, also bare  
Even when that includes upchucking graphics 

Pengwin  


* * *

Tidbit #8 

ObSenad: 

"I am not a Luddite." 

Jim looked up and over at his partner who was sitting and staring at his laptop. 

"I mean it, Jim. There was a time in my life that I embraced technology." 

"I gather you are having e-mail problems again?" 

"Naomi, for all the sixties meant to her, loved the techno seventies. I was the first kid around who had a Vic 20, and I could use it. I love the internet. I don't think Bill Gates is the Antichrist." 

"Blair, you're babbling, love." 

"Well, that's not true, every time I pass the interactive Barney display in Wal-Mart I re-evaluate that belief." 

"Blair..." 

"Jim, you are looking at a man who knows what to do when he sees a "C:" prompt. I kept notes for my BSc on dBase-lll on an OSBORN." 

"Is this one of those moments when I should consider carrying you upstairs, ripping your clothes from your body, going totally primal and fucking you till you beg for mercy, lapse into unconsciousness, or perhaps both?" 

"Jim, I can program a VCR, why the _hell_ can't I get this one stupid mail account, out of the six I use, to function with any form of reliability?????" 

Jim carefully folded the newspaper he had been reading, stood up, hoisted Blair over his shoulder and headed for the stairs. 

"Then again, Jim, there _is_ something to be said for more primitive means of communication." 

\--end-- 

Marag  


* * *

Tidbit #9 

Marmoset started: 

There once was a writer of fanfic, 

(And Wolfine continued:) 

Who argued that slash was semantic,  
"I use Blair and Jim,  
As beefy stand-ins,  
For outrageous sexual antics." 

* * *

Tidbit #10 

ObSenad: 

"Chief, did you read this last demographic post from one of your listsibs for the cop/buddy show we like so much?" 

"Which sib do you mean, big guy?" 

"A.K.A. Blonde "D" ... isn't that how she told you to read it?" 

"That's right. What part of it got your attention?" 

"Well, she's a member of the I.P.G. ... International Pyrotechnics Guild!" 

"And?" 

"And?! Well, technically, that means she has a nodding acquaintance with bombs! A firework is just one step away from one hell of an explosion!" 

"I guess you're right." 

"Doesn't that scare you a little, Sandburg? I mean, this woman could do serious damage to anyone who pissed her off." 

"Well, I let you in on a secret. She thinks you and I are the nicest, the sweetest couple she knows. So relax." 

"How does she know that, Sandburg?" 

"Well ... uh ..." 

"Oh, God, don't tell me our love life is fodder for this list. Tell me it isn't so." 

Kiss. 

Kiss. 

K - k - k - i - i - i - s - s - s- s - s - s - s - s. 

"Was that supposed to make me less pissed at you for 'sharing' with the world at large?" 

"Did it?" 

"Well, yeah." 

"Why don't we take this party upstairs, lover, and we'll try a little something that AKA suggested in her last e-mail." 

"I'm afraid to ask." 

"Let's just say that after we have an in-depth discussion and a little demonstration of 'wet-rolling,' 'charging,' 'heading,' and 'downward strokes,' you'll experience a hell of a big bang. What do you have to say to that, my big detective?" 

"Just one thing, Chief. Light my fire!" 

-finis- 

Deana  


* * *

Tidbit #11 

ObSenad: 

For ten minutes, Blair had been mumbling. 

For ten minutes, Jim had been trying to ignore him and concentrate on his newspaper. 

After eleven minutes, Jim conceded defeat and turned his attention to his lover. "Okay, what is it, Chief?" 

Blair looked up from the screen of his laptop. "What's what?" 

Jim glared. 

A small smile crossed Blair's face. Jim was so easy sometimes. "It's just this list that we're on, you know, the slash one about the cop show." 

"You mean, that list that _you're_ on." 

"Okay, if that's your story," Blair laughed. He knew Jim would never admit just how into it he was. 

"What about it, Chief?" 

"They're posting demographic info, I've just been satisfying my curiosity. I mean, you share these little connections over a story, or an issue, and I admit sometimes I've been curious about stuff." 

This time Jim let out a laugh. "Sandburg curious, who would have thought it?" 

"You've never been curious about any of it? The ages, the locations, anything?" 

"No, not really." 

"You're a detective! You gather facts for a living. How can you not be at least a _little_ interested?" 

"Hey, when they start committing major crimes, my interest will kick in big time. Besides, I've picked up bits and pieces from posts." 

A triumphant gleam sparkled in Blair's eye. 

"What?" 

"I thought you didn't follow the list, Jim." 

"Yeah, well..." 

"Whatever, man. You're secret's safe with me." He started typing. "I think I'll just post some data about myself." 

Blair posted his message, then while pretending to read other messages, he turned his attention to Jim. Having a Sentinel as a lover offered unique opportunities, and Blair had learned to turn most of them to his advantage. 

He let lusty, steamy, erotic images of Jim fill his head. One of his favorite pastimes had become letting himself get aroused, knowing his scent was filling the air, knowing that he could get to Jim without touching him, without moving towards him, without so much as a glance in his direction. He loved to see how long it would be before Jim would react. 

Abruptly, Jim folded his newspaper, sliding closer to Blair on the couch. "Uh, Chief, how long are you going to be?" 

Bingo. 

"Almost done, just let me clear a few messages." Blair started shutting down his computer as Jim fell back against the couch. "You know, Jim, there's a little slice of life question that I think you might be interested in." 

"What's that, Sandburg?" 

"How many people do think there are on the list that will be loved to distraction tonight by a tall, buff cop?" 

Jim growled, grabbed and pulled his lover on top him until they were cock to cock. "Well, I know for a fact that there'll be at least one." 

Blair reached under Jim's shirt, rubbing the solid flesh, moving his hips in a slow grind. He whispered, "Facts are my friend." Then, he settled in to let the loving begin. 

\--end-- 

JC  


* * *

Tidbit #12 

Obsenad for my Demographics post 

Re: Since I live in Munich next to the Theresienwiese I'm going to write about the famous, original Octoberfest. When I suffered this year through this mega event, I tried to imagine the guys on the _Wiesn_. 

* * *

Jim sat in one of the giant beer tents and looked up to the swinging butt of Blair. Blair had joined, in the general excitement, other students on the table and was dancing and singing at the top of his lungs the Macarena. Now and then when the not-so-steady Sandburg overbalanced, Jim grabbed the ass of his lover firmly with both hands and shoved him back in an upright position. 

Blair was already nicely smashed. Jim wasn't much better, although he prided himself to stand his man in every situation. The anthropologist had already drunk five Mass. Normally this would be enough to have him lying under the table, but Jim had drunk from Blair's tankard every time Blair wasn't paying attention, partly to prevent his lover from becoming helplessly intoxicated and partly to dampen his senses. The music was loud and awful. The air was smelling like a leaking brewery and the people were pressed to each other like in the Tokyo subway during rush hour. 

The song was over. Determined Jim dragged his lover from the table. Blair landed in his lap and immediately slung his arms around his neck. "Love you so much!" He slurred and nuzzled Jim's ear. Jim looked around. People were grinning. Two elderly woman, who had to Jim's amazement already consumed two Mass inside and were clinging to their third, suggested laughing: "Gib ihm halt a Busserl. A kiss, a kiss!" They nodded to encourage them. Jim blushed, the whole table was now watching them expectantly. Blair, not shy, latched on his lips and began to eat him alive. 

The spectators laughed and applauded. "Ist die Liebe nicht was schoenes?" 

"I think we should go home now." Jim said. 

"Spoilsport." Blair pouted. 

"We should go as long we are able to find our way to our friends." 

Blair smiled, he had a piece of paper in his breast pocket with the address. "Someone will find this and have pity and send us home. The last time I got home too. Don't remember how though." Blair gave him a bright smile. 

Jim stood up from the bench and dragged Blair with him. Arms slung around each other for mutual support they made their way to the edge of the Wies'n and got in a cab. 

Since the weather was unusual warm Blair planned for tomorrow a visit to the English Gardens. He was looking forward to see Jim's face when he saw the nudes taking sun baths in the public city park in the heart of Munich. Blair snickered, he doubted seriously that he could make Jim drop his clothes in public. 

-end- 

Angelika  


* * *

End Sentinel Tidbits File #41.

 


End file.
